After Rain
by Carina2602
Summary: Every year, the football team has annual party where every member of the team participates in a bonding exercise. Usually, it's just a night of drinking and an epic, creative prank. This year, it's something different.
1. Chapter 1

**Part One **

Nightlife in Lima was practically nonexistent. There were a few bars and one dance hall, which hosted line dancing and country music. Barn parties were sort of a local pastime for teenagers stuck in a small, quiet cow town. Greg Thorne had invited the entire football team to an exclusive barn party. There were no outsiders allowed, not even Cheerios. It was an annual tradition. Finn Hudson had never actually been before, but he had just made Varsity this year. The ritual was sacred for West McKinley High. The location changed every year and no one knew what day the party was on until someone explicitly invited them. Rumor had it the party always included some kind of initiation ceremony and an epic, well planned prank. Last year they had left a car on the roof of the high school. The year before that, they had glued every door in the high school shut. Finn could only imagine what kind of mischief they had in mind this year.

Everyone was excited for the party. Finn picked up Artie and put his chair in the back of Burt's truck. He had lent it to Finn for the weekend while he enjoyed a weekend in Orlando with Carole. It was some kind of therapeutic trip. The doctors and Kurt pushed Burt into having a good time.

Finn suspected Kurt was simply exhausted from all he did and would likely sleep all weekend. The guy juggled school, homework, Cheerios, Glee, looking after his father's health, and over seeing things at the garage. Finn had no idea how he did it, but he was pretty sure Kurt wasn't sleeping much. He had fallen asleep in Glee practice earlier this week during one of Rachel's solos. Finn wasn't surprised, since she _was _singing Kenny Loggins. When Mr. Schuester noticed Kurt sleeping, he'd expressed his concern about Kurt's health. However, the soprano just shrugged and said he was 'fine'. Finn planned on swinging by the Hummel house tomorrow and to make sure he was getting some rest.

The Thorne's owned over a thousand acres of land outside of Lima. A spacious farm house complimented the sprawling lawn. Several corrals surrounded the big brown and blue barn. Wheat and corn fields stretched across the hills. It was a nice property. Finn parked the truck with the other vehicles. Climbing out of the truck, Finn pulled out Artie's wheelchair and opened the passenger door. Artie smiled. It was obvious the guitarist was looking forward to the party. He had ditched the sweater vests in favor of a freshly pressed collared shirt.

"I've never been to a real party before," Artie confessed, "except Kurt's sweet sixteen party."

"I didn't know he had party." The only thing Finn remembered about Kurt's birthday last year was the Navigator.

"Matt and I were the only guys there. We ended up wearing makeup and having our toenails painted. The girls had fun dressing us up."

Finn raised his eyebrows at Matt's name. "I didn't know Matt and Kurt were friends."

"Kurt tutored Matt in French," Artie shrugged, "and English. They hung out a lot last year. Kurt's the one who convinced Matt to join Glee in the first place."

Finn frowned. "That explains why Matt was giving me the silent treatment during nationals. I bet Kurt told him about our fight."

"What fight?" Artie looked suspicious and overprotective at the same time.

"Never mind."

Finn didn't want to talk about _that _incident again. There had been enough grief over his explosion in the basement and Kurt's manipulative behavior. It was kind of settled now, and he didn't need Artie getting upset about it. The barn's big double doors were open. Fluorescent lights burned overhead. It was a cold night, but the barn had huge gas heaters attached to the ceiling. Most of the football team was already there.

Sam, Mike, and Puck held plastic beer cups in their hands. Smiling, Finn wheeled Artie over. Fred Bishop handed them cups. Finn took a sip and grimaced, the beer tasted bitter and cheap.

"This party sucks," Puck declared, "Barn parties are stupid. Sausage-fest barn parties are _really _stupid."

Sam smiled. "I've never been to a barn party before."

"Rich kids probably have better things to do on weekends." Artie offered.

"They happen every weekend. The stoners have them the most. Those are the best ones." Finn considered calling one of the stoner kids for some hash. "I bet they're having one this weekend. I could use a hit."

"When did you go to a barn party with the stoners, Finn? I thought the stoners scared you. You usually just get weed from me." Puck shook his head.

"They invited me once. I went freshman year. Connie Voss invited me." Finn blushed. "Those guys-Max and Jeff-they said I'm too much of a Transfirmist to understand people like them."

Puck laughed. Sam suddenly found his beer more interesting to look at than Finn. Artie grinned behind his plastic cup and said, "I think you meant conformist."

Finn didn't know what either word really meant. He'd had a huge crush on the fiery brunette for a long time. Connie was totally a hippie, but she was smart and had some badass DJ equipment in her basement. She was his first real crush, even though she had never been interested in him. He still thought she was pretty cool, but he loved Rachel now.

"This beer is horrible," Artie complained, "does all beer taste like this?"

Puck rolled his eyes and raised his voice, "No. This is just cheap, factory brewed stuff. Once you try some of the authentic micro-brewed beer, you'll never drink this stuff again. Unless you're at a lame ass barn party."

A ringing cow bell interrupted their conversation. The other football players quieted down. Everyone turned towards the barn doors. David Karfosky, Victor Azimio, Greg Thorne, and Josh Turner stood at the entrance. Their clothes were slightly dirty and something red had stained Karfosky's jacket. Greg rubbed at his sore wrist. Josh was the only one standing still. The other three guys slightly swayed as they stood there. They were drunk.

"First, I want to welcome everyone to the eleventh annual West McKinley High football party for the varsity team." Greg slurred out, squinting blearily at the group. "This party's a tradition. When it started in 1989, everyone had to prove their loyalty to the team, even the quarterback. The team came through and they ended up winning a title that year, for the first time in fifteen years."

_And the last time they won a title, _Finn thought.

"Our team hasn't won a title since 1990," Karfosky started, "even though we have the party. It's not really a loyalty test anymore, though."

"It's become a night of practical jokes." Greg mournfully shook his head. "Nothing more than childish pranks."

"I was extremely disappointed when Greg told me what happens here every year."

The team murmured in excitement as Derek Thorne stepped into the barn. He was holding a long, thick rope. The rope trailed outside. Finn couldn't see what on the other side, but somehow he knew he wasn't going to like it. Everyone knew who Derek Thorne was. He had been the star quarterback at McKinley High and led the team to two consecutive titles. Derek had earned a scholarship to Texas. The muscular, good looking brunette played quarterback for the University of Texas and ended up playing professional football for the Dallas Cowboys. Everyone in Lima knew his story-he was a living, breathing legend from their hometown.

"I know you guys have a new coach. She might be a woman, but she's pretty a good coach. You guys have won a few games already. I want this team to be great again."

"We can win a title this year," Greg piped up, "but we need to trust one another before we can be great again."

"Yeah," Karfosky echoed, "we're going to have a reenactment of sorts."

"We're gonna reenact the Laramie Project!"

"Come here, fag." Greg gave the rope a hard, rough yank. A short, lean figure stumbled into the barn. Finn felt his stomach drop. It was _Kurt. _The soprano's black jacket was torn. His designer jeans were stained with mud. He had a black eye and a split lip. Tears streamed down his face. Derek pushed him onto the ground. Kurt cried out in pain, fighting against the rope tied around his wrists. Finn could see one wrist was red and swollen. A furious, terrifying rage simmered in his stomach; all he could see was red. He flew at Derek, shrieking at the top of his lungs. Karfosky and Azimio grabbed his arms, twisting them behind his back as Finn screamed in rage.

"Let me go, you fuckers!" Puck sounded pissed. Finn couldn't see him. "You just knocked over a kid in a wheelchair!"

"I'm fine, Mike," Artie said from behind him, "Help Kurt."

"Since when do you care about this fag, Puckerman?" Karfosky glared.

Finn kept struggling against his assailants, but they held him down. Azimio was practically sitting on him. Someone else kicked him in the ribs. Finn groaned and tried to catch his breath.

"We knew you guys in Homo Explosion would try to help the fag out." Greg kicked Kurt in the side. Kurt screamed. Finn saw the terror in his eyes. He started struggling against Azimio again.

"Fags shouldn't exist in a place like this," Derek sneered, "they should stay in a closet, or get the fuck out of this town."

"You can't do this," Mike protested, "it isn't right."

He had no idea where Mike was, but it sounded like the dancer was out of breath. They were probably holding him as well. A few of the players seemed to agree with Mike. But most of them, however, were eager to teach Kurt Hummel a lesson. Finn couldn't believe the things they were saying.

"Fucking Fag!" Someone threw a plastic cup at Kurt. It landed almost a foot away from him.

"Queen!"

"Cocksucker!"

The majority was winning the argument. After a few minutes, no one was protesting anything except the five members of the Glee Club. Finn let out a disgusted huff. The rage quickly turned into fear. They were going to kill Kurt, just like those guys in Wyoming had killed that Sheppard kid. Finn imagined Kurt tied up to a fence post, cold, injured, and scared. They might not let him live long enough to tie him up and leave him in a field. Kurt had never done anything to deserve this torture. Finn felt hot, angry tears running down his face.

"Don't worry, Hudson, we aren't going to kill him." Karfosky smiled, flashing his teeth.

"We're just making him leave town tonight," Azimio laughed, "'cause he ain't gonna go back to being in a closet."

"We'll break his legs and dump in Columbus." Derek shrugged. "You're going to help us."

"Never!" Artie shouted. "You can't make me do that to him!"

"You don't break his legs, we'll kill him." Derek glared at the football team, daring anyone to speak out. No one did.

"Don't even think about going to the cops about this. You try to do something stupid like that and we'll give them the tapes." Finn didn't like the smug smile on Greg's face.

"What tapes?" Puck demanded. He sounded winded. Finn wondered if someone had kicked him too.

"Fight Club tapes," Greg rolled his eyes, "everyone here has been to fight club. Except Evans and Abrams, but I don't think anyone would believe you two if tried squealing."

Finn closed his eyes, suddenly feeling faint. Greg was right; everyone on the football team had gone to Fight Club at least once. Some of the guys participated and others just gambled, but getting nailed for something like that would damage all of their lives. They all knew Fight Club was illegal. Finn didn't know what kind of charges people got when they were caught, but he knew it probably wasn't a slap on the wrist. Shit. They had planned this. That disturbed him more than anything else. Derek Thorne was supposed to be a hero. Someone every kid in Lima could look up to.

"That's right, boys," Derek gloated, "you're looking at some serious charges, prison time, and a permanent stain on your record if you refuse. Are you willing to go through all of that for some stupid queer like Hummel?"

The barn was silent. Kurt sobbed harder. "I didn't think so."

"You're up, Hudson."

Karfosky and Azimio released his arms. Finn fought down the rage and leaped onto his feet. Greg held out a baseball bat. "You've got two choices, Hudson. Break his legs, or we'll kill him."

Finn's stomach lurched. He looked around the barn, trying to find someone who was going to stop this. No one would meet his eyes. Puck was still thrashing against the five guys holding him down. Sam was pressed into the wall. Mike was on the ground next to Artie, wheezing for breath. They couldn't help him. The assholes in the barn were actually going to make him break his almost stepbrother's legs. He couldn't believe this was happening. Suddenly, he wanted to apologize to Kurt for not letting him sing a duet with Sam, because talking him out of it hadn't saved anyone from this.

A loud _click _broke the tense silence. Twenty-five heads turned to stare at the slender, dark haired guy pointing a shotgun at Derek. It took Finn a moment to realize he knew him. Jeff Tremble was on the Track team. He had broken Puck's nose on the first day of school last year. A few of the football players had cornered him and tried to throw him in the dumpster. No one realized the flippant transfer student was a black belt. He never saw the inside of a dumpster and Puck never bothered him again. Finn had a few classes with him.

"Let him go, Thorne." Jeff aimed the shotgun at the man's head.

"What are you doing here, you freak?" Karfosky demanded, taking a step towards the runner.

"I saw you guys in the parking lot at the Home Depot, discussing your plans," Jeff explained, "and I saw Kurt in the back of your BMW. It's a small town."

"You don't have the balls to shoot us," Derek said, "You're trespassing."

"I don't think the cops will care."

"He's got proof." A short brunette walked into the barn, waving a cellphone. It was Connie Voss. Finn couldn't believe this turn of events. "He taped your dumb assess!"

"Fucking bitch."

"Fucking moron," Connie snapped back, "think daddy's money is going to save you this time?"

"Let Hummel go," Jeff demanded, "and the other Glee Club guys. While you're at it, help Artie back into his chair."

The jocks stared at each other, unsure how to handle this situation. Finn bolted forward and shoved Derek away from Kurt. The big man barely flinched, but he reluctantly released the rope. Kurt desperately clutched at his shirt, hands shaking with fear. He needed a knife. Puck roughly pushed some of the football players as he hurried over and sliced the ropes with his Swiss Army knife. Finn was grateful his friend always felt the need to look like a bad boy. Crying into his chest, Kurt curled against him. Sam and Mike helped Artie into his chair and pushed him towards the doors.

"Fuck you," Sam swore, "I quit."

"So do I," Puck spat, "only pussy's torture a kid half their size."

"Tell Coach Bestie I'm out too." Mike flipped off the entire team.

Artie just shook his head and stared at Kurt. "Jesus. Look what they did to him."

Blood had caked and dried in Kurt's hair. His wrists were raw and bleeding; the left one was puffy and swollen. His right ankle was even more swollen than his wrist. It was probably broken. Finn couldn't see any other injuries, but he didn't know how long they had Kurt before dragging him here.

"Fuck you, Tremble!" Someone hurled an ax at Jeff's head. The handle hit him in the head. Derek took advantage of the distraction and rushed him. Jeff dropped the shotgun and barely managed to dodge him. Connie shrieked and tackled Greg.

"Get Kurt and Artie out of here!" Puck yelled as he swung his fists at both Azimio and Karfosky.

Sam let out a furious roar and jumped on Richard Willis. Finn didn't want to leave them. It wasn't a fair fight. Four against twenty wasn't fair, even if there was a black belt on their side. He didn't really have a choice. Once he got into the car with Mike and Artie, he'd call the police.

"We have to get Kurt out of here, Mike," Artie pleaded, echoing his thoughts, "we have to leave them."

"I know," Mike grimaced, "but this sucks."

They ran to the car at full speed. Four guys chased them. Artie held onto his chair for dear life, knowing that if he let go the guys pursuing them would probably beat him like they beat Kurt. The truck wasn't far. Finn yanked the keys out his pocket and flung the driver's side door open in record time. Mr. Schue would have been impressed at his new found grace. Kurt grunted when Finn shoved him into the back seat, but he didn't complain. Mike tossed the wheelchair haphazardly into the back and flung Artie next to Kurt. Mike climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door. The football players banged on the hood and smacked their hands against the windows. Earl Shultz hurled a rock at the back window. It left a large, ugly dent. Artie pulled Kurt into a protective hug as Finn peeled out of the parking lot. Kurt wrapped his arms around Artie's waist, sobbing hysterically into his sweater vest.


	2. Chapter 2

Pairing, Character(s): Kurt, Finn, Puck, Sam, Artie, Matt, Will, Mercedes, Glee Girls, Burt, Carole, OMCs, OFCs, Kurt-Centric. Matt/Kurt (mild).  
Rating: R  
Word Count: 2142  
Spoilers: All of season one, season two up to episode 2.04. Probably AU after that.  
Summary: Every year, the football team has annual party where every member of the team participates in a bonding exercise. Usually, it's just a night of drinking and an epic, creative prank. This year, it's something different.

Warnings: Violence, language, adult themes, sex (nothing graphic).

A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews:) I'm currently on part five, so I should eventually finish the story. I'm thinking it will be about ten parts. I should warn you guys that this somehow turned into Matt/Kurt, but its only mild slash.

**Part Two **

The slender redhead lying on top of Will Schuester was sexy. Her name was Rochelle. They had met earlier that evening singing Karaoke. She strategically kissed his neck, wearing nothing above her waist. Rochelle was sassy and dominant. Will didn't really know how to handle her. It didn't really matter, since she was more than willing to control things. He had four Tequila shots and two beers in his system.

Rochelle abruptly stopped kissing his neck, craning her head towards his jacket. "Your phone is ringing."

Will grunted and reached for her hands. "Ignore it."

"It's almost midnight," Rochelle reasoned, "and it's Lima. If someone's calling you this time of night, it's probably important."

"You're right."

Will rolled off the couch and stumbled over to his jacket. "Hello?"

"Mr. Schue!" It took him a second to recognize the panicked greeting.

"Finn?" It had to be something bad, if Finn was calling him this time of night.

"We're at the hospital," Finn yelled in panic, "they won't let any of us see Kurt because we're minors and none of are really family. Our parents are in Florida-."

"Finn!" Will interrupted, "Why are you at the hospital?"

"Kurt's hurt," he sobbed, "Really bad. Will you come to the hospital so someone can be with Kurt?"

"I'm leaving right now," Will promised, "I'll be there in fifteen minutes. If you need anything before I get there, call me."

"Please hurry."

It had to be serious. Finn sounded desperate and scared. Will didn't have any details about how Kurt was injured, but he had a sinking feeling it wasn't something like a car accident or a mishap at the garage. Rochelle had her bra and top back on. The redhead collected her purse, car keys, and leather jacket as she followed him out the door.

"You're in no shape to drive," she said, "I'll take you. It sounds serious."

Will smiled and climbed into her silver Mustang. "I'm sorry about this."

"Don't worry about it," Rochelle shrugged, "It's a shame this town doesn't have an all-night diner."

"Why?" He hoped his question didn't come out as slurred as he thought it did.

"Coffee," she sighed, "You people have no idea what you're missing."

Will couldn't remember if she lived in Lima or not. Judging from her expensive clothes, he figured she was probably just visiting family. They fell into an uneasy silence during the short drive to St. Rita's Memorial Hospital. They had only known each other for about five hours.

The stoplights constantly flashed yellow and red. Drivers were expected to yield this time of night, and it made the trip longer than usual. Will regretted drinking so much at the bar. Drinking wasn't a regular past time for him, but lately the apartment started feeling lonely without Terri, Emma, or April around. Nights were slow and weekends dragged.

St. Rita's Memorial Hospital was a drab, two-story building on the east side of town. The parking lot was almost deserted. Rochelle pulled up to the curb and said she would see him inside once she parked. She promised to find a strong cup of coffee as Will hurried into the Emergency Room.

Finn, Artie, and Mike sat in the corner of the waiting room, talking to two uniformed police officers. Kurt was nowhere in sight. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, but the small teen's absence made him feel on edge. Lee and Ae Sook Chang stood on the other side of the room, dressed in silk pajamas and looking haggard. Will morosely waved at Mike's parents as he headed for his three students. They looked shocked, scared, and devastated as they took turns speaking to the police officers.

Finn spotted Will first and launched out of his seat, surprising him with a tight bear hug.

"I'm happy you're here," Finn's voice cracked, "They won't let us see Kurt."

"My parents are on the way. Kurt didn't want to let go of my hand." Artie cried, sniffling into his shirt sleeve.

"We don't even know if the others are all right," Mike said, covering his face with his hands, "Sam and Puck aren't answering any texts or calls. None of us have Connie or Jeff's number in our phones."

Will hugged Finn tightly. The teen's tears soaked his t-shirt. "What happened?"

"Are you family?" The tall black cop asked softly as he jotted down something on a small notepad.

"Will Schuester," he said, "I'm their teacher."

"I have no idea what's going on," Will repeated, "will someone fill me in?"

The petite blonde haired female officer went over the situation with him in a concise, professional manner. Will listened carefully, becoming disgusted and horrified when she described Derek Thorne and some of the other football players had planned to do to Kurt Hummel. Suddenly, he felt a lot more sober than he had ten minutes ago.

"There are officers on scene at the Thorne residence," she finished, "but it was chaotic there. The paramedics are also on sight, treating the wounded. I can't tell you anything more than that, except that no one's been killed."

"I guess that's good news," Will sighed, "but I hope we'll be able to hear about some of the other students involved. I can't believe Jeff Tremble and Connie Voss intervened like that."

"It's really not that surprising," the other cop said, "the Thorne's and Voss's have been feuding for years. We've responded to several incidents on both properties."

Will couldn't imagine why two families would fight like that. All that mattered was making sure Kurt wasn't scared and alone while he was being examined. The head nurse agreed to escort him behind the big double doors since Carole Hudson and Burt Hummel were in Florida, and couldn't be reached at the moment.

"I'll give you guys an update once I find out what's going on with Kurt," Will promised, "Hopefully, Puck and Sam aren't seriously injured. I'll be back out in a little while."

Will felt guilty for leaving them behind, especially Finn, but Kurt was the priority at the moment. The Intensive Care Unit was quiet. Kurt had already been through x-rays and wheeled into a room. The night staff was in the middle of moving him into a bed when Will entered.

Kurt looked awful; thick white gauze was wrapped around his head and ugly bruises marred the entire left side of his face. There was a purple cast on his wrist and another one on his right ankle, and he was wearing a thin hospital gown, but Will could see the bandages wrapped around his midsection and felt his stomach lurch. An IV line was attached to his good arm, with two bags full of clear liquid dripped from the metal pole.

"Dad?" Kurt's voice was a hoarse, dry whisper.

"I'm right here, Kurt."

Will cried as he approached Kurt's bed and latched onto his hand-the one that wasn't wrapped in a cast. The small teen blearily stared at him and tried to focus on his face.

"Mr. Schue?" He squeezed his hand too hard, but Will didn't dare say anything.

They had been in the same hospital together five weeks ago, but it wasn't anything like this. Kurt had been upset, scared, and worried over his father. Even when he was teetering between despair at the possibility of losing his dad, Will had never seen him look so…_broken. _It was so unfair, because Kurt was one of the bravest and strongest people Will had ever known.

"I want my Dad," Kurt pleaded, "Mercedes-she was here earlier."

Will ran a hand over his face, remembering the all of the girls' excitement at the prospect of spending the weekend in Columbus. Mercedes had invited all the girls to stay at her Aunt's estate for the weekend. The older woman was having some kind of celebration and wanted to meet Mercedes' friends. He'd overheard Kurt turning down the invitation, opting for a quiet weekend at home. It was obvious the boy was exhausted and running on fumes. Will had found him sleeping in the library during lunch earlier that week. Later, Kurt had fallen asleep in the middle of practice. Kurt always insisted he was 'fine' whenever Will tried to talk to him about it. The head injury and the painkillers were probably making him so confused.

A tall gray haired woman dressed in blue scrubs walked into the dimly lit room. She was holding a clipboard. "I'm Doctor Frasier."

"Will Schuester," he looked at Kurt, "I'm his teacher."

"I know," she smiled thinly, "Leanne says you were here last month, when Burt Hummel was in here."

"He's had a hard month," Will kept a firm grip on Kurt's hand, "He shouldn't be here."

"No, he shouldn't," Frasier agreed, "But, barring any unforeseen complications from his injuries, I think he'll be all right in time."

Will took a deep breath and asked, "How bad is it?"

"He's got a broken fibula, two cracked ribs, a fractured ankle, and a concussion, which required twelve stitches," she flipped through his chart, "his brain isn't swelling, which is a good thing. Confusion and disorientation are common with this type of injury. He was in shock when he arrived, which really isn't all that unusual, given the circumstances and the pain he was in."

"How long are you going to keep him here?"

Kurt gripped his hand a little tighter, but Will wasn't sure if he was really awake.

"A few days at least," Dr. Frasier said, "we need to monitor his progress and make sure there are no other complications from his concussion."

Will nodded. "I'm sure his father will be on the first flight out of Florida."

"He's pretty shaken up right now. I know he's got people waiting to see him, but he was extremely distressed when he arrived," she paused, "he was shrieking at the paramedics to let him go. I think we need to let him rest for right now, and once he's calm enough to have visitors, let him decide who he wants to see."

"I know his friends want to see him. Would it be all right if they stepped in for a second?"

Finn would be extremely upset if he couldn't see Kurt until the morning.

"The nurse just gave him some very potent pain medicine and a sedative so he can rest. I'm sure he'll be asleep in a few minutes, but if he'd like to see someone, I'll allow this time, since his only relative is out of state at the moment, but only one of them can visit. He doesn't need any more stress right now."

"What do you think, Kurt?" Will gave his hand a light tap. "Finn wants to see you."

"No!" Kurt hitched, "I want Mercedes."

"She's in Columbus, Kurt," Will frowned, "Finn, Mike, and Artie are waiting outside. Would you like to see one of them?"

Kurt considered the options for a moment. An array of emotions swept across his battered face, but Will couldn't figure out why he looked so uncertain about his options.

"Artie," Kurt whispered, "he can come. Matt too."

"Matt moved to Cleveland, remember?" Will said patiently, wondering why Kurt didn't want to see Mike or Finn.

He knew Kurt and Mike weren't very close, but he was pretty sure Kurt considered Finn a close friend. "Why don't you want to see Finn, Kurt? Aren't you two friends?"

"No," Kurt answered sleepily, "not really. He's hurt me before."

Will stared at the soprano, confused by his reasoning. Finn wouldn't hurt a fly. There was no way he'd lay a finger on Kurt Hummel. Maybe the concussion was confusing him, and he just thought Finn had done something to hurt him. Will didn't know the reasoning behind Kurt's request, but he'd honor it regardless. "I'll go get Artie."

"Wait!" Kurt latched onto his hand again. "I don't want you to leave."

"I won't," Will rested a hand on Kurt's bare forearm. "I'm sure Dr. Frasier can ask Artie to come in."

"Of course," the woman smiled, "I'll be right back."

The lanky doctor left the room and Kurt's breathing evened out again. Will noticed the short, shallow breaths and grimaced. How could anyone do this to another human being, especially some of his students? Will had always believed most of the students at West McKinley high were good kids. The brutality of their attack said otherwise. Sue Sylvester was going to have a field day this. She would definitely crack some heads. Even though she would never admit it, Will knew she had a soft spot for Kurt Hummel.

Kurt leaned his head against the pillow, drifting off into drug induced sleep. Slumping in his chair, Will tried not to worry about the massive fall out to come.


	3. Chapter 3

Pairing, Character(s): Kurt, Finn, Puck, Sam, Artie, Matt, Will, Mercedes, Glee Girls, Burt, Carole, OMCs, OFCs, Kurt-Centric. Matt/Kurt  
Rating: R  
Word Count: 3083  
Spoilers: All of season one, season two up to episode 2.04. Probably AU after that.  
Summary: Every year, the football team has annual party where every member of the team participates in a bonding exercise. Usually, it's just a night of drinking and an epic, creative prank. This year, it's something different.

Warnings: Violence, language, adult themes, sex (nothing graphic).

A/N: Again, thank you for the reviews. So I'm following the prompt and exploring how everyone around Kurt reacts to the situation and how their own actions/words towards Kurt have really affected his feelings/emotions. One reviewer said how much Matthew Sheppard's murder horrified them, and that they lived in Wyoming. I live in Colorado and let me tell you, I heard some very nasty things regarding that tragic case. I live in an area that has quite a large gay community and I was absolutely horrified when I heard some of the things coming out of my own family's mouths. They're pretty tolerant people for the most part, and are generally accepting of my gay friends, but my stepdad is quite homophobic and is very uncomfortable around my sassy and fabulous friend H. It's pretty sad, since H is a wonderful person.

**Part Three **

At first, Puck thought he'd passed out in a ditch. _Again. _Things weren't going so well for him. Losing both Quinn and Beth had been hard. His mom was tight on money. She struggled to make ends meet and worked long twelve-hour shifts five days a week. Nursing paid pretty well, but she had a mortgage and two children to care for. Puck's life had spiraled downhill ever since regionals. Ending up in a field or the back seat of some random girl's car wasn't exactly unusual these days.

Waking up in a ditch was a whole lot better than waking up in jail. At least he could see the stars, once he managed to open his eyes. The pounding inside his skull made it difficult to concentrate on anything except the pain. Blue and red lights flashed across the crisp autumn night. Puck tried concentrating on them, but everything was blurry. A cacophony of voices filled the air. One in particular sounded familiar. Someone was holding his hand.

"—Ambulances are on their way," a woman said matter-of-factly, "Puckerman, Evans, and Thorne are the priority."

Puck didn't recognize that voice.

"We know your story about following Thorne's truck from Home Depot is bogus," a deep, baritone voice insisted nearby, "I ran your plates, and they certainly don't register under Jeffrey Tremble. They belong to someone named Nick Cortez."

"He's a distant cousin," the speaker sounded calm and smooth, "twice removed on my mother's side."

"Uh-uh," the woman answered, obviously unconvinced, "funny thing is, we found some rather interesting items in your car."

"A metal detector," the baritone huffed, "a Glock17, a .38 Special, and several aerial maps of Allen County. We know you were already on the property before you interrupted that scene in the barn. Judging from the hay on your shoes, I'd guess you were trespassing. What were you looking for?"

The hand relaxed its grip a little. Puck thought he could make out a blurry outline of Jeff Tremble, sitting beside him. The runner's concern confused him, because Puck had slushied the kid a few times and tried for the better part of a year to throw him in the dumpster like the rest of the losers at West McKinley High. Puck had largely given up on showing Tremble just where he belonged on the social ladder, because the dude was way tougher than he looked. Plus, he was pretty fast and ditched class a lot. There wasn't much opportunity to torment the guy.

"Bone Hill," Jeff answered derisively. "I have it on good authority it's somewhere in Allen County."

"I think you might be willing to talk some more at the station."

The man sounded frustrated and tired. It took Puck a moment to realize it was Sheriff Ford, the cop that had arrested him two weeks ago after the badly planned, moronic, and drunken crime spree. Now that his vision was finally clearing, he could see Sam leaning against that hippie chick (whose name he couldn't remember). The blonde had a split lip and a sling wrapped around his shoulder. Puck thought it was the same shoulder he had injured in the football game last month, but he couldn't be sure. Derek Thorne lay several feet away from them, sobbing and clutching his leg. Puck hoped the asshole never played football again.

Puck listened to the cops grilling Tremble with mild interest, impressed at the guy's calm resolve. He kept a firm grip on his hand while they waited for the ambulances. There was something comforting about his presence. For the first time in a long while, Puck felt like someone actually cared whether or not he lived or died. The world blurred again. Puck closed his eyes and drifted into darkness, hoping Kurt Hummel wasn't dead yet.

The shoulder was an easy joint to dislocate. It could turn in many directions and was prone to popping out of joint quite easily after it happened the first time. Sam Evans remembered every sordid detail the doctor's said about this type of injury. For once, the Dyslexia didn't affect his ability to learn something new, probably due to the sheer amount of pain he'd experienced after being tackled by that gigantic twenty-three-year-old football player.

Dyslexics usually learned through visual and auditory techniques. Sam could still hear that horrible _snap _in his shoulder. The doctor had rattled off the anatomy of the shoulder. Sam thought his Scapula was cracked. The paramedics seemed to agree, obviously surprised at his _accurate _self-assessment as they hustled him into the ambulance. One of them had placed a simple sling around his shoulder, supposedly to offer some relief. It wasn't helping. Connie Voss squeezed his hand, promising to stop by the hospital in the morning. A tall, lanky paramedic took Puck's vital signs and barked numbers to the dark-skinned woman sitting on the bench.

Sirens wailed as the ambulance finally pulled away from the farm. The cops had corralled everyone outside. Some of the football team had run away when they heard the approaching sirens, but it wouldn't be long before the police hauled them into the station. Sam hoped they got into a lot of trouble for this. Hate crimes were serious. The nasal, Fran like voice of Mrs. Ziegler suddenly filled his head:

_"In Wisconsin v. Mitchell (1993), the Court upheld, against a First Amendment challenge, a state statute that increased a defendant's punishment for battery because he selected his victim on the basis of the victim's race. In a unanimous opinion the Court rejected the defendant's argument, adopted by the lower court, that the penalty enhancement represented punishment for bigoted thought. The state could legitimately punish criminal conduct motivated by bias more than the same criminal conduct without such motivation because of the greater harm likely to flow from the former. After R.A.V. and Mitchell, hate crimes statutes in the form of penalty enhancements became the preferred form at both the federal and the state levels."_

Sam tended to memorize things Mrs. Ziegler said, mostly because he had a hard time tuning out her high, nasal voice. The Dyslexia made him focus more on auditory sources to learn. Dalton Academy had a strict tolerance policy. Parents paid large sums of money so their children could go to a school so they could receive an excellent education without any harassment from other students regarding their race, religion, or sexual orientation.

There were a few downsides about attending a school like Dalton. The guys were nice enough, but some of them were snobs. Some of the more popular kids made snide remarks about the students that attended on scholarships. Sam's parents were richer than Zeus. At least, they had been until the IRS decided to audit his father's company. Richard Evans skipped the country for an unknown destination. The IRS had placed holds on his bank accounts until further notice. Sally Evans moved the family to her parent's ranch and promptly enrolled her two children in the public school system.

It was a major adjustment. Sam didn't have anything left except his natural prowess at sports, music, and love for astronomy to get by at school. In retrospect, he felt incredibly stupid for trying to impress the other students at West McKinley. Some of the kids at Dalton might be snobs, but they would never do something like this. Kurt might be _dead_. Sam regretted singing with Quinn. Kurt was adorable, and now he might not get the chance to actually tell him that. There were other things Sam wanted to say to the soprano: _you're sexy, _and _kiss me _being among them.

Tears pricked at his eyes as the ambulance swung into the hospital's parking lot. Red neon letters spelled something that said _em rg ne cb yr o mo. _Sam knew it probably said _Emergency Room, _but he couldn't make out the actual word on his own. The paramedics pushed Puck's stretcher out first. Two nurses helped Sam into a wheelchair, wincing at his high-pitched scream.

The world went white for a few seconds. He wished he'd just pass out until some killer pain meds flowed through his veins. The only thing stopping him from slipping away was Finn Hudson. The freakishly tall teen walked beside his chair, yelling at the nurses.

"What's wrong with Puck?" he sounded terrified.

"Concussion," Sam muttered through the pain. "How's Kurt?"

"I don't know!" Finn rubbed at his eyes. "I mean, he's in critical condition, but they won't let me see him."

Sam grimaced. The tenor looked wrecked; his eyes were red from crying and snot leaked out of his nose. A gray-haired doctor stepped around the corner, narrowing her blue eyes at Finn.

"Mr. Hudson," she scowled, "I realize your concern for your friends. However, I'm too busy right now to deal with any more temper tantrums. Please return to the waiting room."

Finn wiped his nose with his shirt sleeve, spun on his heels, and stomped down the hall. The nurse pushed Sam's wheelchair through the big white doors, stopping at an exam table. She yanked a curtain around the small space, providing flimsy privacy. Sam suspected anyone passing by would be able to hear their conversation.

The exam went fairly quickly; partly due to the fact that Sam passed out for a few minutes when the doctor reset his shoulder. Everything faded into black. The next thing he knew, his grandfather was there. Eli Thompson hovered near the edge of the bed.

"Where's mom?"

It hurt to talk. Sam thought about asking for a cup of water, but he refrained from doing so when he saw the look on his grandfather's face.

"She took a sleeping pill," he spat, "You know how she is; can't deal with the reality of having a husband who's a crook and a son that's stupid."

Sam cringed at the harsh words. It was no secret that Eli Thompson had hated Richard Evans for years. There was some bad blood between them, but Sam didn't know any of the details. They never spent much time with his mother's side of the family. Eli never said a bad word about his daughter or her other two children, but Sam was loser in his eyes because he had a learning disability and struggled in school. Being insulted every day by his own grandfather _hurt. _

"The doctor's coming back with your discharge papers and a prescription. They are going to go ahead and release you. Your shoulder bone has a hairline fracture; they said there was no reason to keep you over night," his grandfather eyed him for a moment, "Think you can be a man, and not faint again? They might want to keep you overnight if that happens again."

Sam nodded, fighting tears. It had been a really bad night. The boy he secretly liked was in critical condition, Puck had a serious concussion, Finn was a mess, he'd dislocated his shoulder again, and his grandfather was here instead of his mother. Sam couldn't leave without seeing Kurt first. There was no way in _hell _his grandfather would understand that; he needed an excuse to sneak off on his own for a few minutes.

"I have to pee," Sam announced loudly, "Where's the bathroom?"

"Around the corner," Eli grunted, "You need me to help you get there?"

"No!" Sam answered too quickly, "I can manage."

Eli watched him skeptically as he slowly maneuvered himself off the hard exam table. Sam felt slightly unsteady on his feet, but his shoulder didn't hurt very much. Actually, it felt pretty good, which meant someone had slipped him some pain medication. Sam was incredibly grateful for that.

The bathroom was a short distance from the examination area. It was well out of his grandfather's sight. Sam used the railing along the walls for support, hoping he'd be able to find Kurt quickly. Any absence longer than ten minutes would be trouble. Fortunately, Finn Hudson instantly spotted him once he rounded the corner. It looked like the teen was still blatantly ignoring the doctor's orders to stay in the waiting room.

"Sam!" Finn rushed to his side, easing Sam's good arm around his waist. The support made it easier to walk. "I saw your grandfather go in there a while ago. What are you doing out here?"

"I can't leave without seeing Kurt," Sam confessed, "I really need to see him before I can even _think_ about sleeping tonight, even with these killer pain meds."

"He's in the I.C.U.," Finn informed him, "room 117."

"I thought they wouldn't let you see him?"

Sam clutched Finn's waist, trying to fight dizziness. He didn't know if it was from the injury, the medication, or a combination of the two.

"They won't," Finn admitted, "But the nurse went for a smoke break three minutes ago and Mr. Schue went to get coffee. I was on my way there when you came out."

"You've been spying on the staff?" Sam was impressed. "How long have you been out here?"

"Three hours," Finn sighed, "It feels a _lot _longer than that, though. Artie already left with his parents. So did Mike. Puck's mom is out there. Santana got here about an hour ago and even brought her father—he's a doctor—and Miss Pilsbury and her boyfriend are here, and Coach Sylvester and Coach Bestie showed up too. I'm not really alone out there, but I wish my mom and Burt weren't in Florida anymore, and I _really _wish Rachel was here. And Mercedes."

Sam blinked, realizing he'd only caught about half of what Finn had said. The drugs made the world somewhat hazy. No pain was sort of nice, so he wasn't complaining. Their trip down the hall was brief and uneventful. Kurt's room was dark. One machine beeped and listed a series of numbers; Sam couldn't make them out. Finn started crying again as soon as he laid eyes on his friend.

"I can't believe this happened," Finn sobbed, "He looks so…_small._"

"Yeah," Sam solemnly agreed, "He does."

"Dad?"

They both jumped at the question. Sam thought it sounded like more of a plea; small and frightened. Kurt's haunted eyes roamed around the room, searching for his father, and finally settled on Finn. "_Finn?" _

"Yeah," Finn eagerly reached for his friend's hand, "I'm right here, dude."

"You _helped _me," Kurt whispered, squeezing his hand, "I—I didn't think you would."

"What?" Finn asked indignantly, "I wore the Gaga dress last year for you, didn't I?"

"I know you only did it because of Matt," Kurt muttered, "What happened to your shoulder, Sam?"

"Dislocated it," Sam smiled, even though it felt false, "I wanted to see you before I had to leave. I never got a chance to tell you how much I liked your solo-er—duet with yourself."

Kurt pursed his lips into a thin smile. "Thanks. You're nice; almost as nice as Matt—except Matt let me see him naked. I bet you'd look just as good as he did!"

Sam blushed, opting out of responding. It was obvious the guy was high as kite. They must have given him some really strong drugs, though he wouldn't mind stripping down to his birthday suit if it cheered Kurt up.

Finn stopped crying and abruptly let go of Kurt's hand. "What! When!"

"Last year," Kurt continued dreamily, "After Regionals. He was the one that talked you into wearing that dress, right?"

"Yeah," Finn seemed confused at the abrupt change of subject, "Matt was running late that day; he asked me to look for you."

"He thought you would try to stop those guys from hurting me again, but I wasn't so sure," Kurt yanked the blanket up to his chin, "You didn't care when they wrecked my costume. I'm glad you decided to help me that day."

"Karfosky and Azimio hurt you before?" Sam didn't miss the guilty look on Finn's face when he asked the question.

"Only once," Kurt continued, "Hit me in the stomach that day they ruined my costume; Matt was in detention that day and couldn't protect me—or Tina."

"They hit Tina?" Finn frowned, "Matt was protecting you?"

"He tried," Kurt closed his eyes, "We had a deal—I tutored him and he offered me some relief from those jerks. They didn't really hurt Tina, though. I was the one they were after—just like always."

"I never even asked if you were okay," Finn gasped with horror, "Not _once, _and I totally blew you off when you asked me for help. I asked _you _to tone it down."

"For a second," Kurt whispered, "I thought you guys would help them; except Artie. I knew he'd never hurt me. Puck was a bully—so were _you_. I just never saw it until that night in the basement."

Sam glanced at Kurt, horrified at his jumbled story. He couldn't believe that the bullies got away with so much at McKinley. At Dalton Academy, they would have been expelled for simply throwing slushies at their peers. Half the students at Dalton were academically gifted, gay, or minorities that had transferred into the private school because of all the bullying at their old schools. Sam didn't know what to think about Finn anymore. All he could hear was the firm, insistent warning not to sing with Kurt during their duets competition.

"I'm sorry, Kurt."

Finn plucked at Kurt's fingers, but they remained limp. The injured boy had fallen asleep again. Sam didn't want to be here anymore; he couldn't deal with all this drama.

"Finn?" Sam lurched towards the door. "He's asleep. I think we should leave him alone—it's not right, talking to him like this when he's so out of it."

"Yeah," Finn agreed, "I see your point. I had no idea Matt was gay!"

"I think you should probably keep that information to yourself, for now. I don't think Kurt meant to out your friend on purpose."

"Probably not."

Once again, Finn helped Sam walk down the hallway. All he wanted to do was down a few more pain pills and hide under his down comforter. Eli's harsh comments were easier to deal with than all this drama. Sam could _never _tell Kurt how he felt about him; no one could know the truth. Quinn was pretty, popular and female. It was easier dating someone like her. Dating Quinn Fabray wouldn't end with isolation and broken bones.


	4. Chapter 4

Pairing, Character(s): Kurt, Finn, Puck, Sam, Artie, Matt, Will, Mercedes, Glee Girls, Burt, Carole, OMCs, OFCs, Kurt-Centric. Matt/Kurt  
Rating: R  
Word Count: 7,000 or so  
Spoilers: All of season one, season two up to episode 2.04. Probably AU after that.  
Summary: Every year, the football team has annual party where every member of the team participates in a bonding exercise. Usually, it's just a night of drinking and an epic, creative prank. This year, it's something different.

Warnings: Violence, language, adult themes, sex (nothing graphic).

A/N: Okay, so I totally forgot to post the last chapters since I had it over on my Livejournal account. In any event, here's the rest of the story. :) Warning: possible trigger with the Karfosky part.

**Part Four **

There were drawbacks to being a guest instead of a hostess at a slumber party. For one thing, no one remembered Rachel Berry was a dedicated vegan. Pizza and non-vegan cupcakes were completely unappealing to her, and Tess Jones had no idea what a vegan even was. Mercedes apologized for it and ended up driving her over to the nearest health food store in Columbus. It was a headache for everyone involved, but Rachel wasn't giving up her dietary needs for anyone, not even an eighty year old woman who had marched with Dr. King.

Tina and Britney rolled their eyes at her selectiveness. Mercedes turned out to be a gracious hostess, however, and made sure her guests were comfortable. An entire weekend in Columbus wasn't a rare treat for Rachel, since her fathers had lots of friends and family that lived here, but no one invited her to birthday parties or sleepovers. Mercedes and her Great Aunt were celebrating their birthdays together this year since they happened to share the same birthday. They were sixty-three years apart, but that didn't stop them from being incredibly close.

Rachel thought their relationship was very sweet; it was clear they adored one another. Tess was a fierce, proud woman that welcomed every girl into her home with open arms. Mercedes' father had driven them down from Lima and dropped them off with little fanfare. Their first night in Columbus was uneventful. They flipped through old photo albums, watched movies, and made their way up to the guest bedroom, where they shared secrets and details about their love lives.

It was late, but they were still going strong on unhealthy amounts of soda and tea. Rachel sat atop her oversized sleeping bag, listening to Britney's incoherent story about her summer vacation in the sewers. It was difficult to follow the ditzy blonde's thoughts on the best days, and practically impossible when she was sleep deprived and over caffeinated.

"So I got my dad's magic key to the city and took the treasure hunters in there," Britney said lightly.

"-And we got lost in the sewers, because Rochelle has no sense of direction. We were there forever and then Nick found a way out, but it didn't lead us to the buried treasure, just the old steel factory. It was really dusty in there and Rochelle called their boss from a telephone pole. I didn't know you could call people from the telephone pole—did you guys know that? Mr. Snow came and picked us up in his limo—he bought me some clothes and a new computer and I promised not tell anyone what we found in the sewers the next day."

Rachel blinked at her in confusion, wondering why anyone would want to poke around Lima's sewer system.

"What did you find?" Tina asked, obviously following the story better than anyone else.

"It sounds like this Snow guy bribed you," Mercedes frowned. "That's not right; you shouldn't keep secrets for people you don't know."

"But I know them," Britney protested. "And Connie knows them-she was looking for the buried treasure too. They're nice—except for Mr. Dryer-he's only nice to Nick."

"Wait," Rachel demanded. "Connie Voss? The girl that once kicked Karfosky in the balls?"

Britney nodded. "Yeah—she's my friend. I made out with Greg for her-but I really wanted to kiss her, but we were really spying on his family—we spied on other people too—I wasn't supposed to tell you guys that part. I totally didn't spy on the Thorne's this summer."

"Hold up," Mercedes tugged a large, frilly pink pillow to her chest. "You're telling me that you hung out with Connie Voss, crawled around the sewers with treasure hunters—who _bribed _you for some reason—and spied on some people this summer. It sounds like you've gotten yourself mixed up in something. I bet they only wanted your help because your father's the mayor."

Journey's _Don't Stop Believing' _interrupted Britney's thoughtful answer. Rachel crawled over to small purple suitcase. Finn was probably calling to wish her goodnight; he liked wishing her sweat dreams before he turned in. They had only been apart for a few hours, but she already missed him. It was nice to have such a thoughtful boyfriend.

"Finn," She smiled, "I'm glad you called."

Finn sniffled on the other end. Something was wrong; Rachel could feel it in her bones.

"Rachel?" Finn's voice was raw, cracked, and uncharacteristically small.

"What's wrong?"

* * *

Cleveland was nothing like Lima. There were good neighborhoods and bad neighborhoods. Matt Rutherford currently lived in a mid-sized three bedroom condo with his Uncle Nathan in a questionable area. It was a far cry from the nice, spacious five bedroom house he had in Lima, but he didn't mind the trade-off. Even though Uncle Nathan was taciturn and somewhat hostile towards Matt, he had never hit him.

For the first time in years, the bruises were fading without being replaced by new ones. There was no need to sleep in his car, the school (when it was cold), or crawl through Kurt's basement window when things got rough at home. Lincoln West High was very different from West McKinley High. There was no Glee Club, the football team actually won games (and cut him the third week), and the cheerleaders weren't the main attraction at games.

The school's population was pretty diverse. Cleveland wasn't exactly a liberal paradise, but it was much more accepting than Lima. There were several openly out gay teens and more minorities than you could shake a stick at. Matt didn't really have any friends at Lincoln yet; he was still trying to deal with being abandoned by his mother after his stepfather had overdosed on cocaine. It hurt like hell, even if she was a barely functioning alcoholic. She never cared about the bruises Matt received from his stepfather, but she always warned him when Stephen was in a sour mood and itching for a fight. Sometimes, she came up to his room and rubbed ointment into his wounds. It wasn't always bad.

Matt drifted between classes and barely spoke at school. Lincoln High was big and everyone already had their cliques and own friends. It didn't really matter, anyways, since Mike and Kurt were the only people he talked to on a regular basis. Mike knew things were bad at home, but he never knew about all of the bruises. Kurt had found out by sheer accident; the soprano had seen them one afternoon when they were in the showers. Matt always showered last to avoid any questions. Kurt did the same once he joined the football team last year, afraid that the other boys would harass him if he attempted to shower with them.

They became fast friends after that rainy afternoon and Matt developed feelings for the smaller teen. Their clandestine relationship had come to a screeching halt when his stepfather died and he moved to Cleveland. Kurt had promised to visit one of these weekends, but his father had a heart attack, putting a hold on any plans they had to actually see one another. Burt was in Florida this weekend, but Matt made Kurt promise to do nothing but rest for a few days.

Matt spent Friday night watching a _Brady Bunch _marathon and eating a gigantic bag of M&Ms. it wasn't exactly thrilling, but he liked the downtime. Uncle Nathan was playing a gig with his blues bland downtown. It was nice, being able to do something so domestic without fear or worry. There was no need to crawl out his bedroom window or hide in the park because of his stepfather. It was probably bad to admit it, but he was glad the bastard was dead.

The cell phone sitting on top of the dresser rang, interrupting a particularly sappy moment between Jan Brady and the maid, Alice. Matt glanced at the alarm clock on his dresser and frowned. _3.20 am_. He rolled off the large king bed and grabbed the phone, surprised at the name flashing across the screen. _Finn Hudson. _Why was the popular jock calling this late on a Friday night? They were friends, but they weren't close by any means.

"Hello?"

"Matt?" Finn hoarsely whispered. "I—I think you should know what happened tonight, since you and Kurt—well, you know, were together."

Matt would have rolled his eyes at Finn's sudden awkwardness with him, but he heard the underlying concern in his friend's voice.

"Did something happen to Kurt?"

He dreaded the response, remembering the bruises Kurt had shown him last year. The hockey, football, and basketball teams constantly harassed the soprano. They shoved him into lockers, threw slushies, and tossed him into dumpsters. Sometimes, Kurt's tormentors got a little more physical and hit him. Matt knew those ones by name: Thorne, Karfosky, Azimio, Russell and had spent a great deal of his time protecting Kurt from them last year. It wasn't easy, but he stealthily managed to trick Mike and Finn (even though they never realized it) into helping him. School got easier for his friend. He wondered if things had gone back to the way they were before, now that he wasn't around to look out for his friend.

"Yeah," Finn answered grimly, "Kurt's in the hospital."

Matt closed his eyes and just tried to breathe through the sudden pain in his chest. Finn sounded drained and exhausted as he haltingly told Matt what had happened to Kurt a few hours before.

* * *

A quiet, relaxing trip to Florida quickly turned into a nightmare. Burt and Carole had an expensive dinner and took a long walk down the beach. The light rain was pleasantly warm. Dark waves broke noisily against the soft, white sand. Their romantic interlude was cut short by Finn's frantic phone call. _Kurt's been hurt—he's in the hospital _drowned out everything else Carole's son was trying to say. Burt's blood pressure rose, heart pounding against his chest.

They shouldn't have left Lima—not so soon after the heart attack. Between the strict diet regimen and the blatant clinginess, Kurt was driving him _insane. _Burt needed some time away from the house. Florida wasn't that far from Ohio, but at the moment, he felt like he was on another planet. Kurt was lying in a hospital room after without his father.

Carole was already on the phone with the airline, demanding to be put on the first flight out of Florida. The beachfront hotel loomed in the distance. Burt worried after Kurt as they hurried towards the luxurious resort, feeling guilty for snapping at his son the other night.

_Kurt smiled tiredly as he placed the plate in front his father. "It's quinoa, green beans, beets, black beans, tomatoes, honey, and cinnamon." Burt glared at the funny looking round things that resembled rice—he thought that must be the quinoa stuff. _

_"I passed the stress test," Burt protested, "I think I'd rather have something with a little more flavor." _

_"This does have flavor, Dad," Kurt glared, "you're just so used to all that processed food. Your taste buds will change their preference, if you give it some time." _

_"I think I'll have a beer." Burt announced, getting up from the sofa and shuffling over to the fridge. Kurt stood in front of the big refrigerator, refusing to budge. _

_"I can't believe you're doing this," his voice cracked, "Dad, haven't you heard what the doctors have been telling you? You know what they said—you have got to change your lifestyle." _

_ "You can't expect me to change overnight, Kurt," Burt spat, "I'm a grown man. I'm having a beer." _

_ Kurt defiantly crossed his arms, looking angry and hurt. The kid didn't understand everything he'd been through; the heart attack, the coma, a long, exhausting stay in a hospital, an endless parade of doctors, tests, and brutal physical therapy sessions. Everyone told him what he could and couldn't do. The garage was off limits until further notice. Weston was managing things there for now, though he occasionally called when he had questions. The calls were few and far between. Burt knew the burly mechanic could handle the garage. _

_"It's been a long month, kid," He stressed, "Quit smothering me! I'm sick of your constant hovering." _

_ He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Kurt stepped away from the fridge, bottom lip quivering like he might cry. A part of him wanted to apologize for saying that, but he didn't. Burt retrieved his beer as Kurt disappeared down the stairs. _

Things had been tense between them ever since. Burt didn't mean to be short tempered with his son, but it was difficult to control his impulses these days. The emotional imbalance was a side effect of the coma. At least, that's what the doctors said. Fear and regret replaced the anger and frustration he felt towards Kurt. Burt wiped a clammy hand over his face, wishing he was at his son's bedside. It was going to be a long, sleepless night.

* * *

The waiting room became chaotic once the faculty and students at McKinley found out what happened. Coach Sylvester, Coach Bestie, and Principal Figgins all trickled into the hospital at different times. Finn Hudson didn't tell them anything, though, because Sheriff Ford had given him strict orders not to say anything to anyone that wasn't immediate family. After a round of heart wrenching phone calls and a brief visit with Kurt, Finn found a deserted lounge area on the second floor and settled onto a soft leather couch.

Daybreak was only an hour away. His mother and Burt were on a six am flight out of the Tampa airport; they'd land in Columbus at nine and drive the rest of the way home. Finn didn't know what to do until they got here. Rachel promised to return to Lima as fast as she could. Mercedes, Tina, and Britney would certainly follow her. Artie had texted throughout the night, informing Finn that he'd be back sometime tomorrow. Mike wasn't answering any texts. Puck was still unconscious. Quinn was home with the flu. Santana's perfect brown feet rested in his lap and her head rested on the other end of the sofa.

_I used to bully him too, just like Puck and all the other guys on the sports team. _Finn sipped at the coke Santana had brought him, wondering what Burt would think if he knew he had thrown pee balloons at Kurt and helped Puck nail the lawn furniture to their roof. Then there were times he had watched Puck shove Kurt against the lockers and throw him into a dumpster. _Why did he like me so much last year? _Finn didn't understand Kurt's crush now that he was thinking about it. It's not like he ever stopped any of those guys from doing all that stuff to him.

His cell buzzed inside his pocket, alerting him to a new text message. Finn was grateful for the distraction. _Where r u? _It was from Matt. Finn shifted uncomfortably. The idea of Matt and Kurt together kind of freaked him out. _I used to shower with that guy. _How many times had Matt checked him out in the showers, or stared at his ass when they played video games together? Finn quickly typed out: _At the hospital. I know that, _Matt replied, _I don't see you downstairs in the waiting room. You're here? _

Finn gently removed Santana's feet from his lap and stood up, letting the other boy know he was upstairs. _I'll be down in a second. _Finn felt awkward and unsettled as he left the lounge. _Matt should have told me he was gay! _

_

* * *

_

**Part Five **

The hospital grew quiet again once Matt and Finn left the waiting room. They walked down the long, winding hallway towards room 117. Finn kept staring at him. Matt didn't know what to think about that, but he didn't really care at the moment. A petite nurse was leaving Kurt's room, who took in their ragged appearance. Finn wasn't crying anymore, but his eyes were still bloodshot and he was wearing a baggy t-shirt that had some Spanish words on it. Matt had cried during the entire drive. The tears had only subsided once he finally made into Lima city limits.

A hospital security officer stood outside Kurt's room. _This isn't happening. _Matt gave the nurse a grim smile, hoping she wouldn't kick them out. _I need to see him and hold his hand, make sure he feels safe again. _

"Due to the events surrounding Mr. Hummel's injuries," the nurse began, "we have placed strict security policy on any visitors. You must get approval from the patient or immediate family to visit."

"It's all right, Leanne," Mr. Schuester leaned tiredly against the doorway, smiling warmly at his students. "Finn's practically family and Matt here is good friends with Kurt."

Matt audibly sighed when Leanne stepped aside and let them pass, grateful that his former teacher understood.

"It's good to see you again, Matt." Mr. Schuester smiled again, squeezing his shoulder. "Kurt asked for you earlier."

Matt didn't hear a word the man said; he was too focused on the pale, injured boy lying in the bed. The thick gauze wrapped around Kurt's head caught his attention first, and then Matt saw the casts on his ankle and one on his wrist. Bruises marred his friend's face. Gripping Kurt's good hand, Matt brushed it against his lips. Tears trickled down his cheeks. Kurt looked broken and small. Finn openly gaped at the tender gesture, but Mr. Schuester saved them from any awkward and (possibly) angry conversations.

"Finn, why don't we go see if we can find a fresh pot of coffee?" Mr. Schuester yanked Finn towards the hallway. "And maybe some breakfast. I bet the cafeteria is opening soon."

As they disappeared around the corner, Matt kept a firm grip on Kurt's hand and plopped down into the armchair Mr. Schuester had just occupied. An oxygen tube snaked around Kurt's head, letting him breathe easier. _He could have died tonight. _Matt didn't think he could handle losing Kurt—the boy that had stolen his heart last year.

_Snow whirled furiously to the ground. Strong, frigid wind gusts nipped at Matt's skin. It was well below freezing. No person in their right mind ventured outside into the middle of a Midwestern blizzard. Most people stocked up on supplies, hunkered down with their pets and sweaters, and rode out the storm until it passed. School was already canceled for tomorrow. Every student in Lima was probably thanking whatever deity they believed in and celebrating an unexpected day off. _

_ Matt wasn't so lucky. The storm made it impossible for Jake Rieff to leave town on an important business trip-which made life at home hell. Jake lasted two days before he needed a high: the drugs made him irritable and he ended up punching Matt in the kidneys. It had hurt like a bitch. Once he recovered enough to walk again, he high tailed it out the front door and climbed into his Honda Civic. It was way too cold to sleep in the car. The school was a possibility, but he'd rather not spend the next day sleeping in the choir room. There was a good chance Mike would entertain him all day, but spending the night there was risky. Mike's parents would ask too many questions since he stayed over there all the time anyways. They were starting to get suspicious. Kurt was a better choice tonight, even if Finn was there. Matt knew Finn was having a hard time adjusting to life at the Hummel residence, but it would be easy enough to fool Finn. _

_ The lights were still on in the basement. Matt crouched down next to the window and peered inside, looking for Finn. The tall teen was nowhere in sight. The soft, colorful decorations were strewn haphazardly around the floor. Matt lightly tapped the window, knowing something had gone wrong. Maybe they had another fight. It was too bad. He'd thought the room looked warm and inviting—but he liked soft tones and the feel of silk between his fingers. In retrospect, it was probably a bad idea to let Kurt talk him into skipping school so they could decorate. It was creative and fun, but he figured a guy like Finn would never appreciate fine décor. None of the football players had ever commented on the elaborate decorations in Matt's room, not even Finn. _

_ Kurt suddenly appeared, peering up at the window. Matt saw his red rimmed eyes and messy hair, frowning at his unkempt state. Kurt was the cleanest and neatest boy he'd ever met. The smaller boy opened the window and removed the screen. Matt climbed through the window. _

_"Thanks," he smiled, "What's wrong?" _

_ Kurt replaced the screen and closed the window, sniffling at the question. _

_"Finn didn't like our decorations." _

_"Where is Finn?" Matt sat down on the silver couch in the middle of the large room and motioned for Kurt to sit beside him. _

_"My dad kicked him out," Kurt stepped over a discarded tapestry and joined him on the sofa. "For calling me a-a—f-fag." _

_ Tears leaked out of his eyes. Christ. Matt knew Kurt had feelings for Finn. It was a given that Finn would never reciprocate those feelings for Kurt, but he had no right to call him ugly names. Rage flared in his veins. Matt was tempted to march right over to Hudson's house in the middle of a blizzard and punch the living daylights out of him. No one should half to hear awful slurs thrown at them, regardless of their race or sexual orientation. _

_"I know he'll never like me back," Kurt cried, "I told him I had accepted that—but he didn't believe me." _

_"Kurt." _

_ Matt locked eyes with the other boy. The rage simmered down, replaced by love and sorrow. Overwhelmed with emotion, Matt leaned forward and pressed his lips against Kurt's. He gasped in surprise, but he didn't push him away. His lips tasted like salt and chocolate flavored lip gloss. After a brief moment, Kurt started kissing him back. _

The memory brought a paper thin smile to Matt's lips. Their first kiss had been something special. Matt kissed Kurt's hand again.

"Kurt," he whispered to the sleeping boy, "I think I might love you."

Reporters and camera crews had congregated outside the hospital from every major network in Ohio. There were journalists from CNN, MSNBC, Fox News, PBS, and NPR. The media wasn't allowed to use Kurt Hummel's name since he was a minor, but once they learned a professional football player was involved in his brutal beating, they flocked to Lima like flies. It was all over the news.

_Gay teen beaten by drunken NFL star Derek Thorne. West McKinley High School football team brutally beats gay teen, cheered on by Dallas Cowboy quarterback Derek Thorne. Derek Thorne arrested for assaulting gay teen in his hometown. Lima, Ohio suddenly has a terrifying resemblance to Laramie, Wyoming: gay teen kidnapped and assaulted by an entire football team. Promiscuous gay teen provokes NFL player Derek Throne into physical violence. We have an eye witness that claims the teen sexually harassed Mr. Thorne. Was Derek Thorne justified in his actions? How would you react to this situation? _

Finn Hudson stared at the televisions in the cafeteria, horrified at the headline on Fox News. Picking up a chair, he threw it with all his might at the offensive sentence. The television flickered off as the chair flew into it. Glass shattered, spreading across the floor in smithereens. Everyone in the room stopped talking, turning their heads so they could stare at him.

"He's my brother!" Finn shouted, glaring at them, "They can't say those things about him! He didn't do _anything _to deserve this!"

Mr. Schuester abandoned their table, placing his hands on Finn's shoulders. "It's all right, Finn. I think you need to calm down."

An older, balding man wearing a white doctor's coat slowly approached them. "My name is Walter Padilla," he glanced at the glass on the floor, "I'm in charge of this hospital. You have to leave the property. I also expect you to replace that television."

"That won't be necessary." Sue Sylvester abruptly interrupted. The cheerleading coach held a cup of coffee and a water bottle in her hand. She scowled at Doctor Padilla. "You see, Mr. Hudson is just expressing his feelings, which I think is completely healthy in this situation. After all, no one likes liars."

"Aren't you the woman from _Sue Sees It_?" Doctor Padilla asked, exasperated. "I don't know what you're doing here, but this is none of your concern. I want this boy out of my building. _Now. _I'll press charges if necessary."

Finn took a step backwards when he saw the look on Coach Sylvester's face. She looked furious. Things never ended well when Coach was pissed.

"Not so face, Homer," She glared, "I think everyone's too focused on what happened to one of my students last night. I bet our ratings would double if we played that little tape of you watching your wife screw a certain pool boy-one that's a minor, no less."

Doctor Padilla's face paled. "H-how do you know about that?"

"I've got cameras everywhere," Sue deadpanned, "But you don't have to worry about that, since you're being such a great host."

Finn stared at her in muted shock, wondering how she could possibly know something like that. Maybe she did really have the entire town bugged. Mr. Schuester just raised his eyebrows at his colleague, clearly unsurprised by the strange turn of events.

"You can stay as long as you like," The doctor glared, "The hospital will replace the television."

He hurried off, ignoring the curious stares from the people in the cafeteria. No one had heard their conversation, but they could tell something had rattled the older gentleman. Finn smiled tentatively at Coach Sylvester, grateful he was on her good side.

Sunlight streamed through the window and warmed Kurt Hummel's face. A clear, cloudless blue sky eased some of the fear and pain lurking under the drug induced haze. Kurt felt large fingers entwined with his own. _Dad. _Relief flooded him. While he was grateful for Mr. Schuester's presence during the night, no one made him feel safer than his father. Kurt opened his eyes, surprised when he saw dark skin instead of white.

"Morning," Matt smiled, "Want some ice chips? The doctor said it was okay."

Kurt blinked at the unexpected visitor, upset his father wasn't there yet. Then he processed Matt's question, suddenly aware of his aching and dry throat. The Black teen pressed a Dixie cup against his lips. Kurt spooned the ice onto his tongue, sighing with happiness as the cool cubes slid down his esophagus. Matt kissed him on the cheek when he was done, settling back into the recliner.

Deep bone-jarring pain nagged at the edges of Kurt's mind. The cast on his ankle itched and his ribs ached with every shallow breath. The bandage wrapped around his head felt awkward and uncomfortable. Even his lips ached from Dave Karfosky's unwanted kisses.

_They jumped him in the parking lot of Home Depot and shoved him into an ugly, ancient brown van. Kurt had fought them with everything he had, but it was three against one. Greg Thorne, Richard Azimio, and Dave Karfosky. Eventually, they got tired holding him down and Greg hit him in the head with a two-by-four. The sun had set by the time he woke up—tied up on a twin bed in someone's basement. His head ached terribly. It felt like someone was pounding a nail into his skull, fear and panic blending with the pain. _

_"Want some water?" The voice startled Kurt and his stomach churned dangerously. He nodded anyway, recognizing Dave Karfosky's Midwestern drawl. The chubby jock shoved the water bottle towards his mouth. Kurt downed half the bottle without taking a break. There was no telling how long he'd been down here, or what they were planning to do with him. It couldn't be anything good. Karfosky took the bottle away and stared at him with dark, unreadable eyes. Kurt shrieked in horror when the hockey player leaned forward and kissed him. _

_"Don't worry," Dave reassured him, "I won't let them kill you. Greg was up for that-but I know Rick's not. They just want to scare you-beat you up a little. I'm gonna make sure that the whole teams there-including Abrams. I'm sure they won't let anyone hurt you too badly." _

_ Kurt sobbed, unsure how to handle that information—or the fact that Karfosky was kissing him again. The bigger teen's hands pushed his shirt up, rubbing his fingers over Kurt's nipples. This wasn't happening. He couldn't handle the unwanted advances. It made him sick. Kurt's stomach churned, and he promptly threw up all over Karfosky's shirt. _

_"God Damn it!" The jock made a disgusted face and instantly shot off the bed. "That's fucking disgusting." Karfosky darted up the stairs, swearing at the smell. _

Kurt flinched at the memory and wished for another sedative. No one had come down again until Greg's older brother arrived. The gigantic football player had been incredibly pleased when he found out what Greg had in store that night. Derek had crushed the bones in Kurt's ankle when tried to run away as they hauled him into the barn. Only a powerful sedative could keep the memories at bay.

"What's wrong?" Matt asked with a slight hint of panic in his voice. "Do you need me to get a nurse?"

"Yes," Kurt muttered, gripping Matt's hand, "It hurts."

Matt pushed a button on the bed, alerting the front desk that their patient needed them.

* * *

Santana Lopez's father was a surgeon at St. Rita's. They had gone to see the symphony in Columbus when his phone rang in the middle of the performance. Enrique ended the call in a few minutes and announced they were driving back to Lima. _Our mechanic's son has been hurt. Kurt Hummel. Don't you go to school with him? _She didn't hear any of the details until she found Finn crying in the waiting room.

Saturday mornings were meant for sleeping in and pigging out on mouth-watering _huevos rancheros. _She wasn't supposed to be at the hospital with her father, staring at an unconscious Noah Puckerman. He had a massive bandage around his head and a heart monitor beeped monotonously beside the bed. _Elevated intracranial pressure. Coma. Brain damage likely. _The words ran around Santana's head on an endless loop. Puck was so still and lifeless; he looked nothing like the boy she had dated and slept with on and off since freshman year. She thought it was incredibly ironic that Puck was in a coma because of Kurt fucking Hummel. It was fucking hilarious. _Karma's a bitch. _She didn't want to be here anymore. Brittany was on her way back to Lima, but she couldn't get here fast enough. Santana needed her _right fucking _now.

A line of reporters stood outside St. Rita's Hospital. Burt Hummel shot them a furious glare as he hurried past. Carole clutched his hand and quietly reminded him not to overdo it with the stress—but it was damn near impossible with a kid like Kurt. The flight had been hell. A two hour plane ride had felt like a lifetime. _And I cannot believe the media mecca, they're only trying to peddle reality, catch it on prime time, story at nine, the whole world's going insane. _Burt grunted, realizing that punk band his head mechanic constantly listened to actually had a point. He heard that damned song at least once a week and always complained to Weston that shit depressed him. _That's the thing about punk music-real punk music—they tell it like it really is. Plus, Greg Graffin is a genius. _Burt shook his head as he recalled the conversation, hating the fact that those so called journalists standing outside were making a buck off his son. The blatant exploitation made him sick.

The head nurse greeted them at the front desk and gave an updated report on Kurt's condition. Burt felt a little relieved when she led them to his son's room. As long as Kurt continued to do well without any further complications, they would move him out of isolation and onto a more secluded floor. The sight of the security guard standing outside Kurt's door made Burt see red. _Damn those assholes-hurting my son like that. I want to kill them. I still might. _Then he heard it: singing.

A familiar baritone accompanied a well-polished, higher tenor, followed by a deep alto voice. Burt instantly recognized Finn's voice in the mixture. The song was one of his favorites; Kurt loved it just as much as his old man did. _There are stars in a Southern sky, Southward as you go, there is moonlight and moss in the trees, Down the Seven Bridges Road. _The harmonizing was beautiful. Burt was crying by the time he entered the room, touched that Finn, Schuester, and Matt were singing to his boy while he dozed.

* * *

**Part Six **

_"It seems there's a lot more to Quarterback Derek Thorne than meets the eye," Anderson Cooper intoned thoughtfully, "It seems the Thorne family has deep connections with the Ku Klux Klan-except the white supremacist group they belong to splintered off the KKK nearly ninety years ago. What could be more shocking than Derek Thorne's brutal beating of a gay teenager in Lima, Ohio? The gravesite discovered in Lima's long abandoned aluminum plant. There's documented evidence that the Thorne family has been murdering minorities for decades. Join us for an in-depth investigation into the Thorne's disturbing heritage and the hidden racism lurking under Lima's small town charm." _

"Why are you watching this?" Matt grimaced as he stepped into the room.

"It makes me feel better," Kurt answered, eyeing the Tupperware in his friend's hands. "I like knowing what's going on in world-more importantly; I like the fact that the news has forgotten me, thanks to the Voss's."

Kurt meant that. It was easier dealing with the attack when it wasn't plastered all the news. The reporters had moved onto the investigation into the Thorne family and the bodies buried all over the aluminum plant. They were also obsessed with trailing every minority they could find in Lima and asking them about their feelings on discrimination and racism in small towns. The national media attention put everyone on edge; easily breaking apart the paper thin civility that existed before hand.

It made Lima more exhausting than usual. Kurt wasn't going back to McKinley; he didn't object. _You can just go to an online high school, if you have to. _Burt was pretty adamant about it. During a particularly incoherent moment a few days ago, Kurt had accidentally revealed some of the things he'd been through at McKinley, and named names. It was probably a good thing that Puck was in a coma-he was fairly certain Burt would have hunted him down with a flamethrower if he wasn't. At the moment, Burt wasn't even speaking to Finn, despite Kurt's protests.

Finn visited when Burt was gone, begging him to get ask his dad for forgiveness. Kurt tried—he really did—but Burt was furious. Carole was just as mad, upset that her son had participated in bullying. _I raised him better than that, _she informed Kurt during a long visit. It had been an incredibly bizarre conversation, and a draining one at that. The last six days were the most tiring in his life, but it helped having friends and family close by.

Matt had been there through everything, missing an entire week of school so he could stay by his side. The other glee club members had all been to visit multiple times, bringing various gifts. Rachel brought three dozen vegan cookies and stuffed animals from her closet, insisting they were excellent sleeping companions. Mercedes brought an armload of fashion magazines, Quinn brought plants, Brittany and Santana brought Becky, and Tina gave him a Taser. Artie came every day and loaned Kurt his beloved _Wii _and video games to go with it. Mike brought obnoxious techno CDs and danced around the room to cheer him up.

Sam stopped by less frequently than everyone else and brought his big black Labrador retriever along for "petting therapy," as he put it, and they usually ended up not talking and playing Artie's video games. It was very strange, but Kurt didn't mind. Not having to talk about anything for a while was kind of nice. Finn stuck to his side like glue and hovered with Matt when Burt wasn't around. Kurt thought it was sort of endearing and appreciated his almost-stepbrother's genuine affection.

The doctors were finally releasing him tomorrow. The pain wasn't completely gone yet, but it was much more tolerable than before. The anti-anxiety medications and daily therapy sessions made it easier to handle the fear and tension that constantly nagged him. Kurt couldn't wait to go home and sleep in his bed. More importantly, Kurt _really _needed the calming, soothing nightly moisturizing routine. Acne was starting to develop on the bottom of his chin.

* * *

Watching Kurt slowly heal was a little surreal when Puck was lying comatose two floors up, because he definitely wasn't healing. Finn sat beside Puck's bed and watched a machine breathed for his friend. Apparently, not waking up for six days was really bad. Santana and Quinn had gone over the proper medical terms with Finn, but he got lost after _brain damage. _The doctors said Puck wasn't going to wake up, _ever. _Various members of Puck's family visited regularly. Mrs. Puckerman refused to let the doctors shut those machines off, insisting her son would wake up one day.

Somehow, the flowers and plants cluttered around Puck's room seemed less cheerful than the ones in Kurt's. Finn alternated his time between the two rooms. Santana, Brittany, and Quinn visited nearly every day. Mike and Sam made frequent trips upstairs to visit after they spent time with Kurt downstairs. Artie was the only one that never came upstairs, claiming he didn't want to remember Puck like that. _I want to remember him throwing slushies at me. _Finn understood: it was hard seeing the egotistical crooner so still and lifeless.

Someone had placed a radio near Puck's head and put his Ipod on a continuous loop, hoping he could hear his favorite songs while he slept. An upbeat guitar riff and drums started playing, making Finn jump in his seat.

_It was a cloudy night, or so it looked to me, _

_I felt so lost, I couldn't say why._

_I needed strength to change my mind  
but those ghosts stick to me like glue, hating life,  
believing I was no good_

_It was a darkness all my own  
a song played on the radio,  
but it went straight to my heart  
I carried it with me  
until the darkness was gone..._

_It was a cloudy night,  
or so it looked to me,  
I felt so lost,  
I couldn't say why  
I built this cloud to live in,  
It was a bunch of lies in my mind.  
the world wants me to believe it  
so I had to change my mind._

_It was a darkness all my own  
a song played on the radio,  
but it went straight to my heart  
I carried it with me  
until the darkness was gone..._

_I built this cloud I can break it  
The world can't change how I feel  
Because I know it's a lie  
My heart is real_

Finn had tears in his eyes when the song ended. Music had gotten him through hard times before. The last week was no exception-and it had been the hardest week of his life. Burt wasn't speaking to him and his mom barely said anything at all. Somehow, Rachel had become his rock. She was there for him in ways Quinn never had been. He was incredibly lucky to have her in his life. Getting through the last week would have been impossible without her.

"I brought you a chicken sandwich," Matt walked into the room, holding out a paper plate, "I figured you're probably ready for dinner by now."

"Thanks," Finn grabbed the sandwich and tore into it, "Who's downstairs with Kurt?"

"Artie," Matt said with a mouth full of food, "They're trying to make it to the next level of _Halo _before Kurt nods off for the night."  
"They've been on level two since Wednesday," Finn laughed, "Kurt sleeps a lot."

"Yeah." Matt smiled, a wistful look on his face.

Finn fiddled with his sandwich, wondering how he could have missed the budding romance between Kurt and Matt last year. Now that he thought about it, he should have noticed how friendly Matt was towards the soprano.

"I'm happy that you two are close," Finn said sincerely, "I wish that I would have helped Kurt more at school-like you did after he started tutoring you. Burt probably wouldn't be so pissed at me if I had."

Matt frowned. "After who tutored me?"

"Kurt," Finn answered, "Artie said he was tutoring you last year."

"Finn," Matt pinched the bridge of his nose, "Every class I take is an AP course-and I take college courses. I've never needed a tutor."

"Then why did Kurt tell that to Artie?"

"Probably to stop anyone from asking questions," Matt sighed, "We started hanging out once he joined the football team. Kurt probably lied so no one would start any rumors about me."

"He was protecting you," Finn surmised, "Just like you tried to protect him."

"I did my best," Matt admitted, "but I couldn't always be there."

"You did more than anyone else," Finn said somberly, "I didn't really _like _doing all those things to Kurt-but everyone else seemed to like it."

"And you wanted them to like you," Matt remarked sourly, "I remember hearing about the things you guys did to him."

"You never participated," Finn realized, "Or called him names-you even talked Puck out of vandalizing Burt's garage one year when we were drunk."

"I don't like bullies," Matt muttered, "I don't think anyone really knew how hard it was for Kurt at McKinley. When I found out-I was pretty upset. No one should have to suffer what they are—_who _they are."

"No, they shouldn't," Finn agreed, "I wish Kurt was going back to McKinley—that way I could prove to him that I don't care what anyone else thinks—except my friends—at least, not anymore. I'd stand up for him."

"There's still something you can do to show him that you understand how bad it is to let homophobia—hate—just slide."

Finn stared at Matt, hoping he had the solution to his problems with Burt and Kurt. "What?"

"When you do go back to school, you can stop someone else from being picked on-it doesn't have to be someone like Kurt. There are lots of other students that are bullied at McKinley."

"That sounds like a good idea," Finn said, "Maybe if I do that, Burt will start talking to me again."

"I'm sure he will," Matt answered, "I know your heart's in the right place, Finn. It'll just take some time."

* * *

Will Schuester eyed Rochelle's long, sexy legs as she set two boxes on the floor. Every chair in the choir room was full. Rachel, Finn, Mike, Artie, Tina, Quinn, Santana, and Brittney all sat together in the front of the classroom. Fifteen other students had recently joined the Glee Club after Kurt's public beating in a rare display of compassion and understanding. There were a few football players, some more Cheerios, Jacob Ben Israel, Lauren, Connie Voss, and Brett. The new additions had some interesting talents. Connie was a skilled break dancer, Lauren knew everything about sound boards and acoustics, and Brett was surprisingly good at beat boxing.

Brittney had arrived exactly five minutes ago, hauling in boxes with Rochelle and some guy named Nick. Apparently, the blond cheerleader had helped them during their investigation into the Thorne's sordid family history and earned the Glee Club some new sponsors in return. They would never have to worry about paying for costumes or transportation costs again. The three were handing out some flashy costumes for the group.

Things at McKinley were changing. The school board had gotten extremely upset at all of the bad press the school was getting. They fired Figgins and put Sue in charge, knowing the tough cheerleading coach would handle bullies and unruly students much better than the former principal. Sue disqualified the football team from playing the rest of the season and created inventive, strict anti-bullying measures. She fired half the faculty and replaced them just as quickly.

Will was surprised she kept him on, but the stern woman had just looked at him and said, _your students convinced me. _It touched him, knowing his kids had wanted him to stay. Will smiled at Rochelle and Nick, happy that things were turning around for McKinley. The sad thing was; it took a boy being beaten by a celebrity for anyone to care.

FINIS


End file.
